• Just a helpful fact. My school schedule is Homeroom-Band-P.E.-Social Studies-Math-Lunch-Science-Lit/Lang-Art-End of day. Just as a reference. He sits near me in Science and Lit/Lang.
    One day in science, he sat back in his chair with his hands over his eyes, his smooth skin crumpled.
    “Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked, hardly looking up. I hardly noticed him at all unless I was scorning him at that point.
    “My eyes. They really hurt whenever I try to read anything,” he explained. He took his hands, strong fingers, but still nimble, off of his eyes. His beautiful, almond eyes were barely open, but it wasn’t out of laziness or lack of sleep this time, I could see that. My heart gave an involuntary tug, and I told it firmly that it was just my stupid quirk.
    “You probably need glasses. Is it your head or your eyes?” I asked. My sixth grade year I had missed three weeks of school because of headaches caused by bad sight.
    “No, it’s my eyes. I don’t need glasses,” he said. I nodded.
    “Does it sort of sting?” I asked.
    “Sort of. I’ll be fine I just need to…” he trailed off and ignored me and everyone around him. I shrugged indifference and went back to my work.
    In Literature we were reading In Defense of Liberty. We had some reading time, and I leaped upon it, not wanting my usual load of stuff to do at home. Our teacher, I’ll call her Miss Pool, as that was her maiden name, and now harmless here, came over to him. He was sitting directly in front of me. His head was down, but he wasn’t sleeping, he kept shifting uncomfortably.
    “Why aren’t you reading?” she asked, as if she was talking to a toddler. Teachers either talked to him like that or yelled.
    “My eyes hurt,” he said. He was truthful, I could tell.
    “Well you need to read,” she said, crossing her arms. Miss Pool never cared. “Everyone else is,” we had the choice to work in partners. I never did, I got work done faster if I worked alone.
    “I can’t,” he said simply. Miss Pool was about to explode. My stupid glitch.
    “I’ll read with him,” I said. She turned her hawk eyes on me.
    “Fine. Make sure you don’t do his work for him,” was her parting phrase and she went off to stalk someone else. He turned his desk to face mine and I began to read.
    About a page in, I was well aware he had fallen asleep. I paused for a moment to look at him. I thought about waking him, but for some strange reason, I didn’t. I let him sleep through the entire class, reading softly to him, and hoping sleep would heal his eyes, no matter how severe it was in the first place.